


The Wrestling Rematch

by Abagail_Snow



Series: The Wrestler [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Family, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abagail_Snow/pseuds/Abagail_Snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta is no longer the second best wrestler in District 12.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wrestling Rematch

Katniss dusted the counter with a fresh layer of flour before she dropped the ball of dough onto it. She took another pinch of flour from the canister, just enough to cover the shiny dough, and sprinkled it over her mixture. Peeta Mellark wasn't the only member of the household who could bake, and in the twenty years she had known him (truly known him) she had picked up enough skills to prepare a simple loaf of bread.

She kneaded the dough, only sparing more flour when absolutely necessary, until it was a perfectly round pearl. She smiled, content, and swiped a hand across her forehead to brush away the strands of hair that escaped her braid.

She felt a warm body press behind her as she worked, and watched as a pair of thick fingers pinched into her dough. She slapped the hand away playfully.

"It's not done," Peeta said, his lips teasing the shell of her ear.

"It is too," she said, using her elbow to push him from her work. "I've kneaded it twenty times, and it's holding its shape perfectly."

He poked his finger into it again and the glob deflated. "It's all right," he said with a chuckle. "You don't have to be good at everything."

"I am not!" she said, her jaw agape as she turned to face him. She could think of nearly a thousand things she was no good at. She couldn't cook, she could barely string three words together, and she wasn't affable, or comforting, or nearly as compassionate as she could be.

"Stop," Peeta said, his eyes peering into hers as if he were reading every emotion off her face like words on a page. "You raised your sister on your own, you nurtured me back to life in the woods with only a handful of leaves and some spit…"

"I think it was mostly the Capitol grade antibiotics," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "You led a revolution with a bow and arrow," he continued. "Trust me, you're good at everything. I've exhausted the better part of my life admiring how good you are at everything you do."

"You don't have to flatter me," she said. "It's fine if there are some things in life that you're better at. You bake. I hunt. We have a deal, remember?"

"You're perfectly good at baking," he said, pinching a bit of dough from the ball to pop into his mouth.

"Fine," she said, secretly pleased with herself. "You'll always be the better wrestler then."

"Second best in District Twelve," he said proudly, but his grin turned bittersweet and he dropped his chin to his chest. "First I mean, although by default…" he trailed off, and chuckled in that way he did to lighten the mood even though his heart was breaking. "It's been years since that match, I doubt it carries much weight."

"You were quite good," she said, touching her hand to his cheek so that he would look at her again.

He smiled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears for his dear brother. "Did you actually go to that match?" he asked.

"I did," she said.

She wasn't overly interested in the sport, but when she had heard that Peeta Mellark was participating in the District Championship, she felt compelled to attend. He had taken the time to support her during her time of need, and it seemed like the least she could do to support him. And so, when Madge Undersee had mentioned at lunch that her father was forcing her to attend all school events, including the afternoon's "stupid wrestling tournament," Katniss had immediately volunteered to join her.

She remembered him in his wrestling uniform, and the way it outlined every muscle rather prolifically. So much so that she found herself staring at parts of him that a girl with virtue never would. She couldn't help it though and was mesmerized with the way that each muscle contracted over his back and arms and legs with every hold. She hardly understood when Peeta's brother, Cartee was declared the winner, when Peeta looked so good – performed so well.

She felt her face flush at the memory. "You were quite handsome in your uniform," she said brazenly.

"You thought I was cute?" He teased, his grin genuine this time.

"No," she said flatly. "I don't find you attractive at all. Why else would I have married you and bore two of your children?"

"Admit it," he said, and his arms wrapped around her and trapped her against him. She giggled as she tried to wriggle free, but he was too strong, and she didn't _really_ want to be released from his grasp.

She freed her arms and locked one of her elbows around his neck to trap him in a hold. "Maybe you aren't the best wrestler in District Twelve," she said, delighted at getting the upper hand.

His arm tightened around her waist and he hoisted her over his shoulder easily, like he used to with all those sacks of flour at the bakery. He carried her to the couch where he deposited her, pinning her against the cushions with his thighs, while his fingers moved to her sides to tickle her. "Admit it," he said again through his own fits of laughter.

"I want to play!" their daughter, Scarlett shouted as she bound down the steps, her thin brown braid whipping dangerously behind her in her wake. With all the might her little legs could muster, she hurled herself onto her father's shoulders to tickle him with skinny little fingers.

Peeta turned to tickle the little girl's round belly, while Katniss scrambled free, allowing their daughter the opportunity to get the upper hand.

"Perhaps I'm not the best wrestler in the district," he relented, rolling onto his back so that Scarlett could pin him. She grinned a gap toothed smile, when her father held his arms up in surrender. "I'll have to settle with second, I suppose."

"I have another challenger who says otherwise," Katniss said, lifting their son, Hunter from his playpen. The little toddler wildly flapped his arms in anticipation, before Katniss set him gently next to his sister, on his father's chest. Hunter rolled onto his stomach and tried to tickle Peeta with his chubby little fingers, but was only successful in smearing a concoction of drool and snot over the collar of his shirt.

Peeta ruffled his son's blond mop of curls. "Fine, third," he said, and looked up at his wife. "Unless you'd like a rematch."

Katniss admired the joy on her husband's face as he wrestled with their children. That he could find an activity tied so closely with the extreme loss of his family, yet find something so wonderful and beautiful within it. She only wished she had half of his strength. And on some days, like today, she thought maybe one day she could.

Katniss folded her arms across her chest. "I could take you."

"That can be arranged," he said with the type of wink that made her cheeks flush. Her eyes appraised him like the day of that wrestling match, all those years ago, and she smiled.

She scooped Hunter off of Peeta's chest and carried him towards the stairs announcing:

"Kids it's time for bed."


End file.
